


Fairy-fucking-tale

by Renmiriffx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Damn, Domestic, Foul Language, Gallavich, I totally erased Yevgeni, Kidnapping, Kinda?, Living Together, M/M, Oh, On the Run, Violence, a small amount of fluff and stuff, i have no idea how to tag this, it's fluffy, on second thought, post 3x11, sorry - Freeform, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renmiriffx/pseuds/Renmiriffx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On this prompt:<br/>Ian & mickey are all domesticated living there life somewhere else. Away from terry and he finds them and all hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy-fucking-tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maryellen590](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryellen590/gifts).



> This is for maryellen590, you're the best, don't ya go forgetting that, alright? <3  
> Never written prompts before, and I got like waaaaaaaay of prompt, imma so sorry, don't kill me, just throw some rocks at me :D + this is way too long (well, it was longer, but I edited it a bit)
> 
> Not my native language, so typos and grammar errors ahead.  
> Leave me some love cuties ~<3~  
> I don't bite, not hard anyways.

He was getting married, _fucking married_ to a prostitute. More he thought about it, the more he wanted to get away. He wished he could just disappear, like a snowflake melts away in the heat of the spring sun. But it was impossible. Obey daddy or get killed. It was that simple. But then the door swung open, and there was Ian, _his Ian,_ who always was able to take everything away. His bad thoughts, his past, his family, his fears. Not that he liked to admit it, but fucking hell, it’s what it is. It was one look and he was swept away, like being hooked on the finest cocaine. He crashed their lips together, and fell into a sweet bliss.

Still didn’t change what he had to do. Fucking Terry, get married or die. But the look on those green eyes… The sadness in them, the hope, the promise, he could see the reflection of his own eyes on them. And they told the same story of hope. Everything was gonna be alright, but still there was fucking Terry.

What he meant to say was: _Not everybody gets to blurt out how they fucking feel every minute_. Instead the opposite came out of his mouth, like word vomit, not able to stop it.

_Run away with me?_

And they did, they ran.

 

* * *

 

 

“Whatta fuck are we going to do?” Ian huffed out like they had just run a fucking marathon.

“Shut the fuck up Gallagher, ya think I fucking planned this?” Mickey spat at him, running his hand over his mouth.

He looked back at Ian who seemed like he was about to cry or freak the shit out.

“Hey hey, calm down, we’ll figure something alright?” He made a weak attempt at holding Ian’s hand to calm him down.

Truthfully he had no idea what to do. With their situation or how to make Ian relax, they weren’t exactly boyfriend and girlfriend or some shit. They never had been. They were just two people booty calling each other. Stuff wasn’t really made out of goddamn fairytales. Nervously Mickey glanced at Ian, seeing his tear jerking face, trying to smile… As heartbreaking it was, Mickey knows deep down that in some level, he likes Ian so much that it hurts. At least they could try to make it work? _Try or regret for the rest of your life._

“We need to get as far as we possibly can, so fucking far away from Terry and hide.”

Sniffling Ian nodded, whipping tears from his cheeks.

“Firstly we need a getaway car.” Mickey said trying to sound calm.

 

* * *

 

First six months went pouching around motel to motel, from city to city. And humping like bunny rabbits. Enjoying their new found freedom sex-wise. On the bed, on the shower, which Mickey vowed they’d never do again, cos it was fucking slippery, cold and hot at the same time. Finally Mickey had enough when they slipped and he hit his head against the tub, leaving a visible scar above his left eye. But on the table, against the wall, on the floor, in a car. Heck even in one alley, cos they couldn’t wait one time when they came from a bar. Sometimes up to a 5-7 times a day, and then they’d lay the next day in post-sex-hungover. Name a place and Ian and Mickey have definitely done it there. They must have burned 200 pucks forth on condoms and lubes alone.

They never stayed more than a month in one place. They were too afraid to stay still, like the shadow of Terry’s could reach them. Mickey had nightmares sometimes, screaming like a stuffed pig, waking Ian up. And when Ian tried to soothe him down, he’d shut down, pushing him off. Ian knew that the change didn’t come over night, but he wished that someday Mickey would let his fucking guard down, and let Ian be there for him.

Sure they could have gone to fucking Canada or something, but home was home. They kept heading south, eventually reaching Florida. Miami was as good place as any. It was sunny, warm, fun and big, easy to hide in big cities.

One night at a shitty motel by the beach, Ian was thinking about their situation and future. Ian got up, leaving Mickey laying in the bed. The room was a mess, so it took a while for Ian to find his clothes.

“Where you going?” Mickey sat up against the headboard. “What about round two?” He teased, with a hint of begging in his voice.

“Gonna get a newspaper.” Ian chuckled, cos he liked this Mickey, the playful, fun and carefree Mickey, _his_ Mickey.

Mickey’s next step was to roll around in the sheets, wrapping them around him. His head sliding off bed, looking upside down at Ian, biting his lip.

“Don’t be long, or I’m gonna be booooored.” He pouted his lips like a fucking five year old.

“Yeah yeah, teddybear.” Ian laughed.

“And bring back smokes!” Ian heard Mickey shouting when he stepped outside.

 

* * *

 

Ian sat around the motel table, circling something in the newspaper. Mickey was smoking a cigarette by the window, forehead leaning against the cool glass. He glanced at Ian.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“Looking for apartments.”

“What for?” Mickey’s eyebrows rose high, almost reaching his hairline.

“For us.” Ian numbly voiced, cos he knew what would follow.

“You fucking what?” Mickey stood up, cigarette burning his fingers.

Ian sighed.

“Look… We can’t do this forever you know? Keep fucking running, living off stolen cash, it has been six months already...And nothing from Terry. Big fat nothing.”

“But…” Mickey started, but Ian cut him off.

“I’m just tired. Tired of feeling homeless, tired of hiding, tired of feeling like I’m nothing.”

Mickey just stood there, listing Ian’s rambling. It’s was the same fucking feeling he had when they first left, the feeling of not knowing how to help Ian. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, eyes downcast, shyly swallowing the lump in his throat.

“You’re not nothing…” He whispered.

“What’d you say?”

Mickey walked over to Ian, and sat next to him. He glanced at Ian and then fixed his eyes on the floor.

“You’re mine.” Mickey said quietly, but firmly.

Finally he lifted his head up and looked properly at Ian, seeing so many emotions flashing on those green eyes. He took Ian by his jaw, eyes on Ian’s.

“You’re _mine._ ” He repeated. “That’s all what matters to me.”

Ian bit back his tears, swallowing hard.

Mickey leaned to press their foreheads together.

“Okay.” He mumbled. “We’ll get a flat.”

 

* * *

 

It has been 2 years, 3 months and 5 days, since they ran off. Hadn’t been the easiest time, but they somehow got through it. They had to leave everything behind, for Mickey it had been easy, there had been nothing in the South Side for him. Except Mandy, but he was happy with talking with her every now and then, occasionally meeting in half way. He always asked Mandy how Terry was and if he’d done anything to them or any of the Gallagher’s and if he was in prison. Mickey had been furious when Mandy had told him that the Russian bitch was never even pregnant, just something Terry had forced her to say.

But for Ian it had been harsh. Leaving his family, constantly worrying about them, if Terry had paid them a visit, but deep down Ian knew they’d be fine, Gallagher’s always were. They knew what Ian had done, running away with a fucking Milkovich, and they didn’t approve. Especially Lip, at first he was ready to hunt them down, and rip the heart out of Mickey’s chest for hurting Ian, and for stealing him from his family. But they came around after the first year. Still not approving Mickey, but more or less respecting Ian’s choices. At least they had one mouth less to feed, that thought gave Ian some consolation. He called them every week, just to let them know he was okay, and that everything was fine.

And in reality, everything was fine. They rented a small studio apartment, it had everything they needed, a bed, sofa, tv, an open kitchen and a dining area. In the end it wasn’t too shabby.

Ian had been stuffing the sofa with tiny pillows, all different colors and patterns, there were so many of them, that there was hardly any room left to sit on. It annoyed the shit out of Mickey, Ian playing Martha fucking Stuart. But Mickey couldn’t deny that is was nice to come to a clean place, even though it always smelled like fucking lemons, and Mickey hated admitting it, all the fucking paintings and rugs, pillows and decorations, it was home. Their _home_ , a home, they never had.

But not everything was fucking sunshines and rainbows with ponies running around. They did annoy the shit out of each other occasionally. When Mickey left the butter and cheese on the table, when Ian blasted shitty music (well, music Mickey thought was grab.) Whenever Ian hogged the bathroom in the morning, or whenever Mickey didn’t rinse the sink after brushing his teeth. They’d fight like an old married couple, Ian nagged (or that’s what Mickey would say, Ian always thought that Mickey was the nagging one.), Mickey yelled or stayed completely silent and stormed off like teenage girl, not wanting to hear Ian’s bullshit excuses. And sometimes they’d actually fight with fists, and fuck afterwards (for oldtimes sake, was kinda their thing, fight and fuck.)

Domesticity didn’t come easily, and if you’d ask Mickey, they weren’t even domestic… Well not _THAT_ domestic, where you cook together, finish each others sentences, throw gay parties for your gay friends, organize dvds in alphabetical order, or fucking synchronize calendars.

Their version of domestic lifestyle was more like:

 ‘ _Hey Ian? What’d ya wanna eat today?’_

_‘Hmm, I dunno, pancakes and you.’_

_‘Hey dude, that’s not a bad idea, we’ll grab a couple of beers, put on a movie, make a date night out of it.’_

_‘Sweet, can I pick the movie?’_

_‘Fuck no, your movies choices suck donkey balls.’_

_‘I’ll do the dishes?’_

_‘Blowjob, rimming and dishes? You’re on.’_

 

 

* * *

 

Ian works at coffee shop down the street and Mickey as much as he resented it firstly, sells used cars (The semi legit job for bullshitting). Wasn’t much money, but they got by, paid the rent on time, actually bought stuff instead of stealing. It was kinda nice. They had few friends (met them in a bar.), they’d hang out at the beach, have drinks and fun, they tried to make the most of their new life.

 Eventually Mickey had come around, with them being a real couple, not just a dirty secret, he even went as far as calling Ian ‘ _baby_ ’ in public places sometimes. And nowadays he acted like one, like a prober boyfriend, that Ian deserved. Which reminted Mickey of that one time they had gone shopping for a new bed.

_“Why can’t we get this one?” Ian protested._

_“For Christ sake Ian, it’s a fucking waterbed! Who the heck even makes waterbeds anymore?”_

_“No, and don’t ya dare to use those puppy dog eyes on me.” Mickey continued._

_Mickey could practically see Ian’s tail wagging._

_“And beside we’d end up breaking it the first night.”_

_Ian nodded as gesture of ‘fair enough’_

_“Come on baby, let’s look around.”_

 

* * *

They had few simple rules of surviving once they settled down:

  1.       Don’t tell any family members where you are
  2.       Don’t do anything illegal
  3.       Always use burner phones
  4.       Use a mail box
  5.       Blend in
  6.       Don’t get in fights
  7.       Don’t end up in jail



Anything that could lead Terry to them. It had been so long that Mickey had started to believe that the rules weren’t necessary any more, as bad and psychotic his dad was, he didn’t believe that he could use that much time and effort to find them. Heck he wasn’t even that smart. But Ian had insisted on them, so Mickey still obeyed them, _mostly._

 

 

* * *

Ian was already home when Mickey got there, laying on bed, nothing but boxers on. Grinning at Mickey.

“Welcome home honey.” Ian said licking his lips, not getting up to greet his boyfriend. “Come here.” Ian said, patting the spot next to him.

Mickey admired Ian for a while, then hung his coat on the rack. 

“I would love to find you like this every day.” Voice dripping with desire. “All though, I’m kinda disappointed you ain’t wearing clothes.” Mickey crawled on the bed next to Ian. “Cos you know how much I love stripping you, or watch as you strip for me.”

Ian smirked, blushing a little.

“I know, but I ordered Chinese, so I thought we could squeeze a quickie before it?”

Mickey wormed himself on top of Ian, sitting on his pelvis, pinning his hands down to the mattress.

“You know how much I fucking love you right now?”

It wasn’t _I-love-you_ , love you, Mickey had said it plenty of times like these, but never when he really meant it. Ian knew better, every time he teased the shit out of Mickey and he was super pissed at him, after Ian would do something sweet, like kiss him all over, especially that sweet spot behind Mickey’s ear or give him a full body massage. And Mickey always said that he hated Ian. But Ian knew that in Milkovich language _I-fucking-hate-you_ means I love you.

“How about some mood music?” Ian suggested.

Mickey’s mouth roamed all over Ian’s neck, nipping it gently, tongue tracing skin from collarbone to earlobe.

“Thought this was going to be a quickie?” Mickey hummed in Ian’s ear.

Ian whole body jerked when Mickey bit his earlobe, dragging it between his teeth, tugging it. To Mickey, seeing Ian twist and jerk underneath him was probably his favorite pastime. Not that he’d get to enjoy it now, this being a quickie and all.

Mickey’s lips dropped back to sucking Ian’s neck, dragging out those wonderful hisses and broken groans out of Ian.

“Not even Nine inch nails _closer_?” Ian slightly panted.

Mickey stopped sucking a hickey he was making, memorizing the lyrics, _I want to fuck you like an animal, I want to feel you from the inside, I want to fuck you like an animal._ Mickey hummed in pleasure against Ian’s neck, feeling his dick twitching, begging to be touched.

“When ya said the food was coming?” Mickey said half grinning.

A laud thump against their door, startled the boys, both heads turned to the door, whatta fucks floating in the air. The second thump almost broke the door down. Third one came a second later, giving the boys no time to react, and it took the door down with it.

It was a déjá vu all over again. Even though it had been nearly 2,5 years ago, they remembered it like it was yesterday. But it wasn’t yesterday, it was now. Terry fucking Milkovich stood in their door way, pointing a gun at them. Mickey flipped them off the bed, tucking Ian under the bed and reached for his gun at the bedside table drawer. This fucking time he was gonna protect what was his, even if it meant shooting Terry and going to prison for it. Once his hand was above the edge of the bed, Terry fired, hitting Mickey in the palm.

Everything slowed down, constant blood drops hit the floor, pooling up, painting it red, a clock on the wall went tick..tick…tick…Bleeding and hurt, Mickey went for his gun again, _not this time, not this fucking time_ , Mickey had swore he’d never be that mousy boy again, that was too afraid to stand up to his father. But Ian grabbed his wrist just in time.

“It’s not worth it, you’re not going to jail, you’re not fucking leaving me.” Ian gnarled, not letting go of Mickey’s wrist.

His face was red and hot from both fear and anger. They probably didn’t have time for it, but Mickey folded his fingers around Ian’s wrist, mixing it with his blood, stroking the tense skin with his thump, leaving a bloody print on it.

 Mickey’s eyes were on Ian’s, edge from crying. His eyes begged for Ian’s forgiveness, his love, his pain and sorrow, his everything.

“I fucking love you.” Mickey said, never being more serious in his life.

“I know. I love you too.” Ian said, his voice trembling.

Ian yanked them both up, never letting go of Mickey’s hand.

 “You fucking faggots don’t fucking learn, do you, you fucking assfuckers? You fucking piece of shit thought you could run from me?” Terry’s gun was pointing at Mickey.

Looking down at the barrel of the gun, Mickey swallowed. Reasoning with Terry was pointless, so he stayed silent, just eyeing his father.

“You’re coming home and do what you were fucking supposed to do. And out of gratitude you’re killing assfucker here.” He waved the gun at Ian.

Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand harder.

“OUT!” Terry roared.

It was Friday night so almost everyone was out drinking or partying, no one was calling the cops over a gunshot. It was likely no one had even heard it, due to some fireworks down at the beach.

They were walked to a car, Ian tried tapping s.o.s on his chest, when he saw someone passing by, but it’s was Miami, so he was ignored.

They were shoved into an old used car which smelled like roadkill. Both of them in the backseat. Then Terry knocked them out with the back of his gun.

 

* * *

 

It was a Saturday afternoon. Ian always called on Fridays, when the call hadn’t come, Fiona was worried. She called Lip if Ian had called him, and Lip told her he hadn’t called. Fiona called everyone she could think of and not a peep from Ian. She went as far as tracking Frank down and asking him. She tried Ian’s real father, Frank’s brother, but nothing.

College sucked, study groups on weekends…Lip knew something was wrong with Ian, he excused himself from the company he was in and hopped on the bus. His first instinct was to go see Mandy, if Mickey had called her.

Lip banged against the Milkovich door, and after the third bang, Mandy answered the door.

She smiled coyly at Lip.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How’s college?”

“Fine, I’m not here to socialize, heard from Mickey?”

Mandy looked dazzled, leaning against the door frame.

“Not for two weeks, why? Something happened?”

“Ian didn’t call.”

“Fuck.” She whispered.

“What?” Lip asked.

“Terry got out of prison couple day ago.” Lip could see her starting to tremble, flashes of Terry killing Ian and Mickey filled her mind. She dropped to her knees.

“What if…” She tried to say, but broke down to tears.

Lip got on her knees as well and wrapped his arms around Mandy. Holding her, and wiping tears from Mandy’s cheeks with the back of his hand.

“They probably got hammered last night and forgot to call, alright?” Even Lip didn’t buy his reply, he knew Ian wasn’t that irresponsible. Fear started creeping up on his mind. What if...?

 

* * *

 

Lip stayed with Mandy, she called Tony, Colin and Iggy if they knew where Terry was or was he planning something. And no one knew nothing about Terry’s movements.

“We should go down at the Alibi.” Lip said.

“Huh? Why?”

“If Terry’s been there, he’s bond to have babbled something to someone if he was drunk.”

“Terry in a bar, sober? Ha, yeah, he’s been drunk of his ass.”

“Then let’s get going then.” Lip said, and hauled Mandy out by her arm.

Kev was working, pouring a beer for Tommy, who was considering the time, pretty drunk. He noticed both Lip and Mandy storming in.

“Hey, you lovebirds back together?”

“Shut up Kev, seen Terry around?” Lip snarled.

“Pop Milkovich?” Kev asked.

“Yeah, that fucking asshole.” Mandy hissed.

Kev looked at the ceiling and scratched his chin. Then he looked like the lighting had hit him, slamming his hand down the counter.

“I did, didn’t I.” He said like he was announcing it.

Lip sighed deeply, rolling his head, man Kev was slow sometimes.

“When you saw him?”

“Couple night ago, why?”

“Did he say anything out of the ordinary? Never mind, just humor me, he say anything?”

“Nah man, some rambling about justice and bullshit. He was drunk as hell, slurred all over.”

“Justice?” Mandy asked, eyebrows high.

“Yeah, like faggots gonna get what they deserve, pretty normal for Terry.”

“Oh my god.” Mandy said quietly, voice trembling like autumn leaves in the wind.

Lip grabbed Mandy’s arm, dragging them towards the door. “We gotta go.”

Kev looked confused. “What’s this about?”

“Ian’s in trouble.” Lip said before they left.

 

* * *

 

Mickey was coming to, his head was pounding like a motherfucker. Tardily he blinked a couple of times, his lashes fluttering against his lower eyelids and dried blood was covering his vision. He yanked his hands, to find that he was cuffed to a radiator.

Everything hurt, he leaned his head on the radiator, swallowing back tears. He looked around, not seeing Ian by his side or anywhere in the room he was kept. It was all his fucking vault, if he only had listened to Ian, why didn’t he just listen to Ian?

The room was filthy and small. Windows were covered with sheets, but they did let some light in, Mickey scanned the room around him, trying to find something he could use to pick the cuffs. There was a rusty nail beside him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach it.

“FUCK! FUCKING FUCK, MOTHERFUCKER!” Mickey screamed on top of his lungs, leaving his curses echoing around the room.

His angry side got the better of him, he screamed, yelled, pulled, yanked, tugged, everything to get himself free.

“IF YOU BRAKE A FUCKING HAIR ON THAT GINGER HEAD, I FUCKING PROMISE, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Mickey howled and yanked one last time the radiator, which creaked a bit, but not enough to give in.

“Thump… I’ll brake my fucking thump, fuck.”

Mickey braised himself, taking a grip of his right thump. He took final breath and pulled as hard as he could.

“ARGGFUCKKKKK-UMMMM” He roared, huffing out heavily, he eased his hand out of the cuff. He turned around, his legs against the wall, giving him enough leverage to brake the radiator, and a few pulls the radiator gave in more. Then he heard steps, he swung around, hands behind his back.

Door opened and Terry walked inside dragging Ian with him.

“Now you get to do the first part.” Terry said, tossing Ian violently at the floor.

“Mickey…” Ian started saying, but Terry hit him across the face.

“YOU MOTHER—“ Mickey got to spat out, before Terry lowered to his knees and smacked him. Mickey stretch out his jaw, checking it was still in tagged and placed his eyes on Terry. The loathing oozed off him, making Mickey tad more angrier. Terry’s shit eating grin was the last straw.

Mickey whacked his already shot and broken hand in Terry’s cheek, making him lose temporally his balance, giving Mickey just enough time to wrap his legs around Terry’s neck, and squeeze. Ian noticed quickly what was happening and jumped on Terry, hitting him until he lost consciousness. Still Mickey didn’t ease his legs around Terry’s neck.

“Mickey, you’re gonna kill him.”

“That’s the fucking plan.”

“Fucking stop it!” Ian said, getting Terry away from Mickey’s grip.

“We’ll call the cops.” Ian said and searched Terry’s pockets from phone and keys to the cuffs.

He freed Mickey, folding his hands around him, embracing him.

“You okay?” Mickey asked.

“Forget about me, you’re the one who’s hurt…and badly.”

“I guess. But you’re safe, that’s what matters.” Then Mickey passed out in Ian’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Next time Mickey woke up, he was in hospital. Mandy was next to him, snoozing. She woke up when Mickey coughed.

“Shit, you’re awake. How’re you feeling?” She asked, face between smiling and crying.

“I’m fine, where’s Ian?”

“He went to get coffee.”

“He okay?”

“Mostly in shock, couple of bruises, but otherwise fine.”

Mickey sighed out of relieve.

“Good.” He muttered.

“How did dad find you anyway?” Mandy asked, voice a notch louder than a whisper.

Mickey swallowed hard, shaking his head.

“Coke.” He breathe out.

“Coke?” Mandy asked.

“I sold some coke, okay, got it from Iggy, junkies talk I know, Ian was right. I never shouldn’t have…” He sighed.

“Then why did you?”

“Money.”

“I thought you were getting by.” Mandy said confused.

“Where are my pants?” Mickey coughed out.

Mandy pulled Mickey clothes and hung Mickey pants in the air.

“Left pocket.”

Mandy checked the pocket and pulled out a small box. Her eyes teared up.

“This what I think it is?”

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded, reaching his good hand to Mandy and she gave the box to him.

Ian walked in the room, two coffee cups in his hands. He rushed to Mickey’s side.

“Oh my god, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” His smile was relieved.

 “I’m good, don’t worry about me.”

Mandy stood up, “I’ll give you guy’s a minute.” She winked at Mickey.

“Terry’s back in jail. And his gonna stay there this time for a really long time.” Ian said, fondling Mickey’s arm.

“Good, cos I’d fucking kill him.”

“I’m pretty sure Lip’s gonna kill you first.”

They both laughed and Ian placed a lingering kiss to Mickey’s temple, eyes dropping to Mickey’s lap.

“What’s that?” He pointed the small box in Mickey’s lap.

“Guess I’m never getting more drugged up than this.” Mickey sighed and tossed the box to Ian.

Ian opened the box and gasped.

“T-this?” Ian barely got out his mouth.

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded, looking at Ian’s tear jerking face.

“Sooo, gonna say yes anytime soon?” Mickey smirked.

“Fuckhead.” Ian muttered, swallowing down his tears.

“Yes, I’ll fucking marry you, Mickey Milkovich.”

And Ian kissed the shit out of Mickey.

Guess you can have a fairy-fucking-tale no matter the circumstances and where you start at.

**Author's Note:**

> there is more wormholes than in an apple, and I'm sorry. I fucking suck at writing, I mean writing something that has an actual plot. sigh. thanks for reading and BYE. lots of love. gonna go crawl under a rock somewhere now, hmm okay.


End file.
